


While We Have Today

by siehn



Category: Captain America, Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, wolf!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siehn/pseuds/siehn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shifter!Bucky and Steve in a graveyard during the War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While We Have Today

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a shifter!wolf!verse I have. Also written for a friend. :3

“Bucky,” Steve growls, tries to be quiet as he ducks past a large grave stone and heads deeper into the cemetery. He keeps his shoulder hunched, not entirely comfortable, and is careful to step around the actual graves. “If we get caught--”

“Would you relax, Rogers? We’re not gonna get caught. There’s no one out. This is our night, pal,” Bucky interrupts him, twirling around with all the grace of the wolf as he spreads his arms out and faces Steve. His eyes flash yellow in the shadow of a looming marker, and a grin plays briefly over his face. 

He’s right; it’s officially Halloween back home, though they’re nowhere near there to enjoy running through Central Park on all fours without a care in the world. Then again, maybe it doesn’t matter where they are; the night the veil between the worlds is thinnest isn’t limited by country, and Steve can feel the power coursing through him already. He wants to Change and run, to learn these unfamiliar hills as well as he knows the streets of Brooklyn. 

“Yeah okay,” he concedes, relaxing as he catches up to Bucky, brushing their shoulders together because the touch grounds him. They’re _pack_ , and together; that’s all that really matters, tonight. “But the minute anyone cries ‘werewolf’ and tries to fetch the torches and pitch-forks,” he starts, barely able to keep a straight face, “I’m outta here.” He has an image to maintain after all; Captain America can’t be seen cavorting around graveyards with beasts. If only the world knew the truth; he can’t help but wonder what they would think of their beloved ‘icon’ then. Bucky laughs softly, rolling his eyes. 

“Where the Hell does that come from anyway? ‘Werewolf.’ I swear half the time I think some idiot shifter went and decided to get rich off telling ghost stories,” he snorts, leaping nimbly to the base of a concrete angel statue and staring down at Steve with a smirk. 

“Show-off,” Steve mutters good-naturedly, stepping around the statue and looking up at his friend. The moon is high in the sky; it’s full and huge and orange. They’re both feeling it, he knows; Bucky’s eyes are pure wolf, playful and teasing and every bit as wild as Bucky has always been. Steve knows his own aren’t much different. He bares his teeth in playful challenge, braces himself when Bucky’s posture shifts just so and he leaps. 

Challenge accepted. 

They both go rolling down the hill, thankfully void of jutting grave stones, though Steve does end up with grass in his hair, which Bucky picks out while laughing down at him once they land. “You know I’m always gonna win that, Stevie,” he informs him smugly, every bit of him radiating self-satisfaction. 

Steve snorts, growling low and uses his new-found bulk to his advantage as he flips them, straddling Bucky triumphantly with one eyebrow raised. “You wanna run that one by me again, Buck?” He smirks before flopping over, leaving one arm sprawled over his pack-brother just because he can. In the distance they can hear the booms of canons, or maybe planes dropping bombs on some poor unsuspecting city. The war still rages on all around them, and there are too many dead soldiers wandering the hills in foreign lands. It’s not fair to them, that they never get to see home again. There are echoes of boot steps headed their way and Steve closes his eyes against the sad, tormented expressions as the platoon of dead men marches past. He and Bucky push closer together to avoid their attention. 

The dead are never kind. 

“You remember that first night without the pack, when it was just the two of us?” Bucky asks, his eyes firmly fixed on the stars above them. The sky is clearer than he’s ever seen it in New York. 

“Yeah,” Steve answers softly, shifting closer to ward away the cold seeping in. “There was a blizzard and we ran for what felt like hours until we ended up in that old subway tunnel. You curled up around me so I didn’t freeze to death.” He pauses, glances over at his friend and sighs. “It was probably the safest I’d ever felt.” 

“I don’t think we’re ever gonna get that back, Steve.” He sounds tired, like the war has slowly drained everything out of him and that’s a terrifying thought. 

“We’re gonna make it, Buck,” he tells him, sounds so sure of himself even though they both know he isn’t. Neither of them really believe they’re going to make it out of this; it’s too easy to imagine themselves lost to the ice that is slowly creeping in all around them the further into enemy territory they go. In two days they head for Austria on intel Phillips gathered from Zola. The shadows are stretching longer and the ghosts are getting more restless; he hopes the War ends soon, either way. 

“I hope you’re right, pal. I ain’t ready to run the Hunt just yet, and God knows you can’t make it without me, runt,” Bucky jokes, letting the heavier atmosphere get pushed back for the moment. Tonight is a night of revelry, everything else can wait. 

Steve huffs, shoving into Bucky’s shoulder playfully, “I think you’re the runt these days, jerk.”

Bucky just laughs, shoving Steve back and rolling up onto all fours, Changing as he goes. He yips, snapping close enough that Steve can hear the clack of his teeth before turning and bounding across the field in front of them. He stops once he’s far enough out, whirling around with his ears and tail high; Steve knows a demand when he sees one. He laughs, pushing himself up and running after his pack-brother. He Changes in mid-run, skidding across the frost-covered ground to nip at Bucky’s tail. They raise their voices in a long harmony as soon as they hit the tree-line, the eerie howl echoing back to the village, making people tremble as they check their doors and windows. It’s a night for creatures and spirits; Steve and Bucky add their song to the chorus as they run, pure joy in being alive and together curling through the wolfish music.


End file.
